Wonderful You (22 page)

“Well, as adults, we all understand that now. But it has taken a long time to have come to that realization, for all three of us.”

“And none of you ever asked your mother?”

“I never did. I suspect that Georgia has not, either. If Nicky did, he kept it to himself. I always felt that there was something very deep there, something she could not talk about. That if she could have, she would have.”

“Zoey, everyone’s waiting for you,” Georgia called from the doorway.

“We’re coming.” She disengaged herself from Ben’s arms reluctantly. It had been comforting, for just a moment, to have someone to share an old deep hurt with. She tugged on his hand.

“I hate to waste such moonlight.” He looked back over his shoulder at the pond, where the shimmering light caused the shadows of the trees to reflect on the mirrored surface of the still water. “Maybe we can steal out for just one more dance before the night is over.”

“Maybe,” she grinned, walking backward toward the
open doors and taking him with her. “You never know what a night like this might hold.”

* * *

D
elia stood on the third step from the bottom of the handsome, wide stairwell, and watched as family and friends gathered below, the black-tied waiters circulating with silver trays of champagne in fine fluted glasses of delicate crystal. She cherished each face that her eyes set upon, her children, several of her cousins, several of their children. Longtime neighbors and friends. All of the people who were most dear to her, most important in her life.

All but one.

She sighed the thought away. In good time, the picture would be complete. Only not just yet. It hurt her terribly to see that empty place where someone else should be standing with Georgia and Zoey and Nicky. She would have given anything to have had that last link returned tonight, after all these years.

Soon, she reminded herself as she bit back the tears she had cried every night, every morning, for thirty-five years. Soon, they would be tears of joy. Soon, the canvas will be complete.

But not tonight. Tonight was Nicky’s night. Nicky’s and India’s. The rest can wait. Her eyes glistened as she looked into the face of her son, and a look of such deep compassion and love passed between them that she wished for just the briefest moment that she could be alone to weep, to cry it out. Nicky was the only one who knew her secret, the only one she had told. He had wept with her,
for
her, the depth of his understanding nearly breaking Delia’s heart.

She looked for her daughters, and found them huddled, faces tilted toward each other, whispering and giggling together, as so often she had seen them do through the years.

Will they be as understanding as their brother, when they find out that I have lived a lie for all these years?

These thoughts were no
t for tonight. She pushed away
her fears and forced herself to stand just a little taller, forced gaiety into her smile as she tapped her fingertips on the side of her glass to signal she was about to begin. This moment belonged to his son and this wonderful woman who would become his wife.

She flashed the smile she had become famous for, and raised her glass slightly as she proposed a toast to the happy couple.

There would be time enough to weep later.

17

A
narrow sleeve of morning sunlight elbowed through the gauzy white curtain, and Zoey stretched in its warmth like an overgrown cat, momentarily disoriented when she opened her eyes and found herself in her old bed in her old room in her mother’s house. Knowing that the party would most likely last till the wee hours, she had packed an overnight bag and planned to stay. Besides, she had wanted to spend as much time this weekend with her mother a
nd siblings, her future sister-
in-law and her family. Her nose caught a whiff of something wonderful being prepared for breakfast. Sausage and pancakes, most likely, one of Nick’s favorites. She smiled. Mrs. Colson always did love to spoil Nicky.

She flopped back on the pillow, and raised her arms above her head. It had been a lovely party. She sighed, remembering it all.

Had that really been her, dancing in the moonlight with Ben Pierce? And had that really been Ben, kissing her like he meant it?

It had! It had!
A little voice inside her head crowed.

She grinned, then laughed out loud.

Kissing Ben was every bit as wonderful, every bit as exciting, as she had known it would be. His lips were
that
warm, his tongue
that
knowing and clever…

Just thinking about it brought that coil of anticipation back to her gut and caused her breath to catch in her throat.

“
Careful, Zoey,
”
he had said.
“
I’m not feeling very big brotherly right now.
”

“And
that
is the best news I’ve gotten in a very long time,” she said aloud to the menagerie of her old stuffed animals that crowded a shelf on the opposite side of the room, “particularly since
sisterly
is the last word I’d use to describe how I feel about you, Bennett Pierce.”

She hopped out of bed and into the bathroom, all but dancing. Delia had invited Ben for brunch. He would be here in less than an hour.

Maybe, before the day was over, she’d get the chance to kiss him again.

* * *

“
Y
ou’re in an awfully good mood this morning,” Georgia noted as Zoey bustled into the dining room where she sat alone at the long table, still laden with the elaborate centerpiece from the night before.

“Umm.” Zoey patted her sister on the back on the way to the buffet, where all manner of delectable dishes had been set to tempt the diners. “Oh, wow, eggs Benedict.” Zoey opened the door leading into the kitchen and called, “I love you, Mrs. Colson.”

“I love you too, Zoey,” came the cheerful reply. “Enjoy your eggs.”

“I will, I will.”

“Where is everyone?” Zoey asked Georgia, who was sorting through the basket of herbal tea bags on the sideboard. “Has everyone else eaten already?”

“August just went down to the ba
rn
to get India and Corri, who, being Corri, wanted to give the ponies each an apple for their breakfasts. Mom and Nicky are outside.” She waved a hand toward the window, where
beyond, at the foot of the garden path, her mo
ther stood with her brother.

Zoey glanced out the window, then resumed pouring her first cup of coffee, but something drew her eyes back
toward the garden as she turned to walk to the table. There was something in her mother’s face as she looked up into Nick’s, something Zoey could not quite identify.
Sorrow,
the word echoed in her head. Sorrow and pain and regret, all in their purest forms.

Drawn closer to the glass by the sharp awareness that
what she was witnessing was the breaking of another’s heart, Zoey pushed the curtain all the way back. Nick had his arm around Delia and was bent close to the side of her face, as if whispering something that was meant for no ears but hers, even though there was no one else around, and his look held such tenderness that for a moment it appeared that he had assumed the role of gentle parent and Delia that of the child who was being comforted. Unexpectedly, it disconcerted Zoey, this thought that her mother, Delia the ever strong, ever mighty, would require such ministrations from anyone, least of all one of her children.

She watched from the window as Nick ran his thumbs ever so gently under Delia’s eyes, and it was then that Zoey resized that her mother was crying.

This, too, was a foreign concept, and she tried to recall when she had last seen her mother cry. Oh, there had been a few random tears over the years—a woman with a flair for drama always had a tear to shed for a sentimental birthday card or maternal pride—but this was different. These were real tears. Real enough to shake Delia’s shoulders. Zoey wished she could see Nick’s face.

Turn around, Nicky,
she whispered, but he remained with his back to the house and his face hidden from her scrutiny.

“Did you say something, Zoey?” Georgia asked as she poured hot water into a porcelain cup.

“What?”

“What are you looking at?”

“Mom and Nicky are in the garden.” Zoey bit her lip.

“I told you that.” Georgia dipped a tea bag—Peach Orchard—into the cup.

“Have they been out there long?”

“They were there when
I
came down about five minutes ago.”

“What’s wrong with Mom? She looks so upset.” Zoey frowned.

Georgia shrugged. “It’s probably the wedding. You know how Mom is about these things. Losing a son, and all that.”

That could be it.
Zoey stole one more look out the window, then set her cup on the sideboard while she opened a packet of artificial sweetener.
Maybe Mom is just feeling nostalgic about her only son getting married.
Sure, that’s it.
Zoey nodded uneasily to herself, wanting to believe it, and took her place across the table from Georgia and began to chat about who had worn what the night before, what relatives had shown up and who had not.

“Georgia, are you all right?” Zoey asked after ten minutes of mostly one-sided conversation.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re not yourself.” Was Georgia somehow clued in to whatever was bothering her mother? “You’re not feeling nostalgic about Nicky getting married too, are you?”

“Me? No. I’m delighted for him.” Georgia reached behind her head with both hands to secure the pins that held up a waterfall of thick blond hair. “Nicky and India are like two halves of a whole. It’s very romantic.”

“It is
.
Very romantic,” Zoey agreed. “And it’s true, they’re so perfect for each other it’s like something out of a romance novel. But that doesn’t answer the question.”

“What question was that?” Georgia sipped slowly at her tea.

“I asked if you were all right. You seem distant.”

Georgia sighed heavily and put down her cup. “I’m
just distracted, that’s all. I have an audition on Tuesday for a role I have always wanted. I’m just nervous because I know I won’t get it. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to try out.”

“Why would you say that? You’re a wonderful dancer.”

“
‘Wonderful’ is probably not enough, sweetie, but I appreciate your saying so.” Georgia smiled wryly. “This particular director likes his principal dancers to be very tiny.”

“Georgia, if you were any tinier, you’d disappear.”

“I am three inches taller and twelve pounds heavier than the competition. I look like a cow compared to some of the other dancers.” Georgia nibbled on a slice of cantaloupe.

“Georgey, you are not a cow.” Zoey put her fork down on the side of her plate, her voice rising. “And I would be totally suspect of anyone or anything that made you feel, for even one second, that you were. If anything, you’re so thin you’re about to fade into next week.”

“Zoey, please don’t start,” Georgia pleaded, recalling the arguments she and he
r sister had had over the past
year or so over what Georgia ate or did not eat. “I burn a tremendous number of calories. I dance for hours, every day. I jog. Some days I swim.”

“Why do you do all that?”

“I like to.”

“Then maybe you should take in a few more calories.” Zoey could not help herself. She had to add, “A few hundred more every day might help.”

“Please, Zoe. Not today.”

“Okay. Just promise me you’ll take lots of vitamins.”

“I take vitamins. In fact, I probably eat a healthier diet than you. What did you have for lunch yesterday?”

“I don’t remember.” Zoey averted her eyes and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, thinking about the hamburger and French fries she had shared with CeCe.

“Ah, that bad, was it?” Georgia’s eyes began to
twinkle. “I’ll bet it was loaded with animal fat and sodium.”

“Don’t try turning the tables on me. I’m the big sister here. And as the big sister, it’s my job to look out for you.” Zoey’s voice softened. “Besides, I love you, Georgey, and I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me. And I guess as the big sister, you’re entitled to throw your two cents in every once in a while. And for the record”—she leaned over and kissed the top of Zoey’s head—“I love you, too.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” Zoey gave Georgia’s hand a squeeze. “Now, do you think I should go down to the ba
rn
to get the Devlins?”

“Ben did that.”

“Ben is here?” Zoey asked. “You didn’t tell me that Ben is here.”

“I thought you knew. I thought that’s why you were up early and down for breakfast on time for a change instead of making everyone wait for you.” Georgia shrugged.

“Very funny.” Zoey plunked her cup down on the table and set off for the ba
rn
. “I’ll be right back. Tell Mrs. Colson to hold the hollandaise.”

Zoey fled through the back door, then stopped as she saw him coming around the side of the carriage house, one arm draped comfortably over August’s shoulder as he pointed up to the carriage house that had once been his home. He would be telling them about his mother, about how they had come to live there. He turned and pointed down toward the trees, beyond which flowed the Brandywine. Now he would be telling them about the adventures that he and Nick had on the river as boys. Corri jumped up and down, excited by the tale, and Zoey smiled at the sheer exuberance of the child’s animated response.

The four of them walked toward the house, and she watched each step he took. That he was there,
really there,
was a miracle that she still could not comprehend.

As a boy, Ben had won her heart the first time they met. It seemed that now, as a man, he had come back to claim it. It had always been here, waiting for him. All he had had to do was come home.

And now he was there, and it was all just exactly as it was meant to be.

She watched his face as she walked toward him, watched the smile that started with his eyes, then moved to his lips.
He knows, too,
she thought to herself.
He knows he belongs here. He knows he was meant to be with me. He knows
…

It was all she could do to keep herself from dancing.

“Zoey!” Corri took off across the yard, a six-year-old bundle of love and joy, and caught Zoey around the hips.

“Corri, don’t wipe your hands on Zoey’s nice pants,” August called to her. “You’ve been feeding the ponies with those hands.”

Corri froze and stared in horror at her open palms.

“Did you smear pony slobber on my butt, Corri Devlin?” Zoey asked
, trying her best to appear stern
.

“I did.” Corri turned her pixie’s face up to Zoey. “I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“It’s okay.” Zoey laughed to assure her. “These pants aren’t all
that
nice. And besides, I have another pair with me, just in case.”

“Good. Me and Ben are going canoeing after we eat. And maybe Nicky, too.”

“If we can find the canoes.” Ben told her.

“I think they’re still in the garage,” Zoey looked over the head of the child into the eyes of the man who could turn her knees to jelly with nothing more than a smile.

“Would you like to join us?” he asked, close enough now to tuck a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. She all but melted at the touch of his fingers on the tip of her earlobe, her fears for her mother being pushed aside by the tingling that started in her head and traveled through her body down to her toes.

“Sure,” she squeaked.

He took her elbow, then trailed his fingers the length of
her arm until their fingers touched, then locked. Buoyed by the intimacy of the simple gesture, she all but sang.

“…
but I only had enough for the ponies,” Corri tugged at her other arm. “So, do you think we could?”

“Could what, sweetie?” Zoey tuned back in.

“Could go back after lunch and give the horses some apples.”

“Oh. Sure.” Zoey nodded.

“Yippee!” Corri skipped ahead, and spying Nick and Delia in the garden, started off for them. India’s hand shot out and caught her shoulder and pulled her back.

“Not now,” she told Corri softly.

Zoey turned and looked at her future sister-in-law, and knew in that instant that, whatever it was that was disturbing her mother, India
knew.

And whatever it was, Zoey sensed, it went well beyond Nick’s impending wedding.